


capable

by erintoknow



Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [4]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Depression, Gen, Ocean, Optimism, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Recovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trying to be supportive, dream - Freeform, extra canonical, love your sisters, love yourself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 11:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: you can't control everything, but that doesn't mean you can't controlsomething





	capable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrozenAbattoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenAbattoir/gifts).



> Cerise Becker is FrozenAbattoir's Sidestep oc; thanks for letting me borrow her! <3

it’s like a wave, bringing jellyfish, they don’t mean to sting, that’s just how they are here in the sea and the salt little poisoned kisses lashing up your arms, chest, face as the foam breaks over you the receding tide pulling you further the sand slipping away –

You shut your eyes tight, suppressing a shudder. You’re not anywhere near the ocean. Try to remember. Where are you? What had you been doing? You are downtown at the corner of 6th and 8th street. It’s a midnight grocery run because you keep forgetting bodies need bothersome things like ‘nutrients.’ You curl your song around your mind tighter as the ebb of the ocean washes against your ankles. You’ve half a mind to take a taxi to the store to pick up the Rat King and suit up. You could use their support to prop you up.

But there’s no guarantee you’ll be to get back here in time and find the source of the water. And you _need_ to. That isn’t a choice, not for you. You’re back there again, trudging up the steps, an acrid smell settling in to your lungs, pushing past Charge and Steel as you swallow down your own bile. What the hell is causing these waves? You shift the handles of the bag to hang from your wrist, dig the nails from your freed hand into your arm.

This is here.

This is now.

It’s just a memory.

It can’t hurt you.

 _God –_ You hope that’s true.

You take a deep breath as the wave hits again. You’re ready for it this time. It’s not any easier, but you can feel the current now, move your legs, follow the feeling to the headwater, steal glimpses of what the origin point can see. A cute trick, something you couldn’t have done seven years ago. Maybe things would have been different if you– You dig your nails into your arm again. Don’t get lost in the abyss of hypotheticals.

As you rush a crosswalk you check on the people around you. A few people wince or hold their head. Frowns ebb and flow with the ocean’s beat against the shore. You don’t know what you’re going to find –don’t want to think about it– but there’s still time.

You find it– _her_ in the gullet of an alleyway running between a movie theatre and a night club. She’s curled up with her legs against her chest, backed into the corner made where the dumpster rests against the night club wall. The dull thumping bass more felt then heard, traveling through the ground in a pattern you can’t quite make out. Little waves pulling at the shore.

“Oh… _shit_ , Cerise?” You mind supplies the name to you without bothering to explain were she got it from.

Even so, it seems to work, the woman raises her head in surprise. “Ariadne?” She answers, and then a look of surprise to match your own washes over her face.

“Are you okay?” You ask. An obviously absurd question.

“I’m fine.” She answers. An obviously absurd response.

You grit your teeth, force yourself to step closer even as the water threatens to pull you over. Julia Ortega wouldn’t accept that response from you. You’re not going to accept it from her. “You’ve got a strange definition of okay.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Too bad.” You sit down next to her. “I’m awful like that.”

Cerise doesn’t have a response to that, doesn’t move to acknowledge your presence.But she doesn’t move away either, so you’ll take it. Just sit there with her, and let the water seep into your socks, pull at your clothes. You lean back and rest your hands on the dry cement ground, slide your fingers to avoid the wad of gum that’s been ground into the stone.

“Aren’t you supposed to ask what’s wrong?”

“Would you tell me if I did?”

“No.”

You think about reaching for her. Decide against it. It’s about all you can do to stay here in the shallows, keep yourself steeled against the undertow, shoes pressed against the ground. Jellyfish float between the two of you, caught in the current. You’re just beginning to recognize the beat thrumming through the night club wall when it shifts and changes and you’ve lost the pattern again. You hiss air through your teeth, irritated.

“What?” She asks.

“The song changed.”

“That’s what you’re focused on right now?”

You make a face. “I–I like music.”

“Why are you even here?” She still won’t look at you. It’s spooky. Is this what it’s like when Julia had to deal with you? Maybe you should think about getting her a thank-you card. …Or maybe it’s seven years too late for that now.

“Do- do you want me to leave?”

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

You dig your hands into the sand, feeling the salt water curve around your fingers. “Bullshit.”

She shifts position. Well. At least that got some kind of response from her, even if it was negative. “How can you honestly say that, after everything that happened?” Her fist pounds into her leg. “There’s no happy ending here. We’re going to die. We don’t have a choice. They’re going to find us and take us back and–” She chokes and you can feel the water wash up over your head.

You flinch, tap you feet against the still dry-cement, try to ground yourself. “I mean, I don’t think you’re wrong exactly. This whole dream was… kind of doomed from the start, wasn’t it? But–” You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking. “That doesn’t mean we don’t, um… i mean– what we want still matters, you know? Maybe the choices we made were… wrong, or stupid. But we still– we still made that jump, yeah?”

“Did we though? Was it really us jumping? Nothing’s been right since that apartment… I can still feel her in here.”

“Yeah.” You swallow, the taste of salt coats your tongue. “I know.”

“Shit, I can still–” Cerise shakes her head. She doesn’t need to finish her sentence. For a brief moment, you can hear it too, the screams in the next room, your own–no Cerise’s as the surgeons get to work.

You feel sick, red water bubbling up and out your mouth. You have to swallow it down, dig your fingers into the sand again. “I don’t know know how to let go of a ghost like that.” You admit.

“She’s still here with me, always. In the back of my mind.” You watch how the jellyfish move through her, carried by the current, rocking back forth from the bass rumbling the cold dry cement under your hands.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t see anyone else here, Cerise, just you.”

“Well,” There’s a pained smile on Cerise face as she stares at the far wall. “They’ve replaced so much, I don’t think that’s true either. There’s not much of ‘me’ left, Ariadne.”

You have to think about that one. “Are you…” You pause to catch your breath, swallow down salt water. “Are you familiar with the ship of Theseus?”

“Who?”

“It’s… an old thought experiment. Theseus is a greek sailor with a wooden sailboat. Every time he comes into port, he replaces one of the boards in his boat. But it’s still Theseus’s boat afterwards, right?”

“I guess.”

“After enough trips, Theseus replaces every part of the boat. Nothing remains from the original ship. So… is it still Theseus’s boat?”

“You haven’t replaced Theseus yet though.”

You try to smile as the water breaks over the two of you. “That’s true. It’s Theseus’s boat so… the parts don’t really matter, don’t you think? You’re still you. No matter what they do to you, you’ll always be you.”

She rolls her eyes, “Like you really believe any of that.”

“I–” You choke, spit out red water. “I want to though. I want to believe it – so badly.”

“That’s cruel, telling someone else lies just because you think they’re pretty ones.” She shoots you a look, only for the briefest of moments but you feel sick to your stomach again. “You’re being just as bad as them.”

You flinch, “I– I think…”You swallow the water in your throat, try to force your stomach to settle down again. “I think the fact that they were so mad about what we did is all the proof we should need.”

“They’ve got more people and money than we could ever hope for.”

“They wouldn’t be so cruel if they weren’t afraid of us. Afraid of what we could do– could be.”

“They are cruel because they can be. Because of what we _can’t_ do.”

“We _can_ fight back.”

“Even if you… blew up a building, they’re all over the county. They’ll just build new ones.

“So we change the country, give them no where to hide. Make _them_ go on the run.”

Cerise finally turns to look at you, her expression cold as she looks at you through the film of a jellyfish’s bell. “What, you want to run for president? Fat fucking chance.” You can feel the water rock against your chest, soaking into your clothes. Rap your hands on the cement again. Still dry.

“No.” Your voice is quiet. “We’ll do what they always had us do. Work from the shadows, pull favors, manipulate information. Set the stage, let them change the country for us.” The more you talk the more you like the sound of what you’re saying. It’s a way out, a rope in the water.

“I don’t want to kill any more people.”

“Then don’t.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yes it is,” you insist, stubbornly. “It’s _your_ show. Set the stage, cast the actors, pick out the band.”

“You can’t control everything!”

“No, you’re right, we can’t.” You close your eyes, lean back against the dumpster.

“Then what’s the point?”

“I think…” You move your head and look at her again, wave your hand to push those damn jellyfish aside. The tentacles lash your fingers and you flinch at the touch. “Not being able to control _everything_ is not the same thing as not being able to control _anything_.” You trace patterns on your leg, frustrated. Can’t tell if anything you’re saying is getting through to her.

You can feel the water ting red around you. What are you doing here? You can’t help her, you can barely hold yourself together.

Breath Ariadne, focus.“I mean…” your voice is low, “I think you already get it, if you thought about it.”

Cerise doesn’t respond to that, so you keep talking. “We can’t– we can’t help how we were…” you stumble over the word, “born, but– but that didn’t stop us from changing how we lived.” You scratch your jaw, painfully aware of what’s under the concealer.

The water pulls at Cerise’s hair, blonde strands drifting this way, then that way. “We shouldn’t even exist Ariadne. We’re not people. We’re mistakes.” She raises a hand to keep the hair out of her face. “Left behind or forgotten about or–”

“So fucking what?” You grab her wrist before she can pull it way, hold fast. “Who cares what they wanted for us? They’re fucking evil bastards. Just because they get to make the rules doesn’t mean they’re suddenly the good guys. It just means the rules are evil too.”

“Why do you even care what I think? You don’t know me.”

A memory briefly flits across your mind and you have to blink your eyes to clear out the sea water. “Does it help, if I make it selfish? I just…” You use your free hand to shove another jellyfish away. “I just want to be, what I’d want someone to be for me.”

“…that _is_ pretty selfish.” She pulls her hand out of your grip.

“I’m sorry, but… I never pretended to be anything else.”

“I’m not your…” Cerise twists in a hand in the air, searching for the right word. The tentacles of a jellyfish wrap around her fingers. “–your mirror or something. If you’ve got something to say to yourself, you can leave me out of it.”

“It’s not like that, It’s not like this is easy for me,” you say, feeling weak. “It just… seemed like you needed to hear it too.”

“I’m…” Cerise stands up, water wicking off her clothes in sheets. “I’m going home now.”

“You can do this, you know.” You call up to her. “You can get through this.”

“You can’t know that.”

“It’s not about knowing… It’s– it’s about saying it.” You stand up too, shove a jellyfish out of your lap. Ignore the welts it raises on your arm. “Be safe getting home.”

Cerise glances back at you. “You too.”

You don’t remember walking home when you wake up in the morning. The sun’s already high in the sky and you are soaked through in sweat. Fallen asleep in your clothes again? The AC unit is silent, did it break over night? What a piece of garbage. You’re a super villain now, you’re not hurting for money. Maybe you should start investing in your own life.

What exactly happened last night? Almost like a dream but… there’s no telepathy in dreams. The more you try to think about it the more it’s fizzing away like the seafoam after scooping it off the sand.

For some reason, you’re having the strongest compulsion to do something nice for Ortega.


End file.
